Where We Come From
by Zany the Nerd
Summary: Howard Stark loved his son, he just...didn't know how to show it. A series of one shots exploring different moments of Howard and Tony's strained relationship.
1. Late Night Visit-1973

1973

Howard's palms pressed hard against his eyes. Damn, he was tired and staring at these intricate schematics for so long was beginning to give him a headache, but he was close—too close—to turn in for the night! He needed some caffeine, something to give him the power to persevere for just another hour or two. If he and Vanko could do this, it would change the world! It would be his legacy!

Thoughts of what could be were interrupted by a timid voice behind him, "Daddy?"

Howard inhaled deeply through his nose as he spun his chair around to face his three-year-old son, "Anthony, what are you doing up?"

The young boy shuffled his feet as he stood in the doorway of the workshop, "Can't sleep."

"You know you're not supposed to come down here," he said with great exasperation, "Go get your mother or Jarvis, I'm very busy."

Ignoring his instructions, the stubborn boy hesitantly walked further into the room, "What're you workin' on?"

Howard knew he should scold the child for deliberately disobeying him, but his head was pounding and he was too exhausted to deal with the tears that would certainly follow. Instead, he rubbed his temples and said, "Something far beyond your comprehension."

"Oh," the boy came to a stop next him, squirming and pulling at his pajama top.

Why was Tony so uncomfortable around him? He needed to grow more of a spine; he didn't want his son cowering before anyone. That would lead to him being manipulated by people and lord did he know the world was filled with such cruel dregs just waiting to devour someone like his boy.

Noticing Tony's fingers had found their way into his mouth, Howard groaned and yanked the child's hand downward, "No, that's disgusting! You're much to old to be putting your hands in your mouth."

"S-sorry, daddy."

He sighed. Tony was smart for his age—no—brilliant was a much more suitable word. He wanted the best for him! He wanted Tony to be strong, confident, and not let himself get pushed around by anyone! Coddling him would get him no closer to those things.

The inventor stared as the toddler stood on his tip toes, attempting to look over the desk at the schematics that were currently sprawled over it. A bit roughly, Howard placed his hands under the boy's armpits and lifted him into his lap. He purposely ignored the way Tony stiffened.

"These are blueprints for a project an associate and I are working on. Do you recognize any parts?"

"Ummm…." Anthony scrunched up his nose in concentration as his brown eyes darted all over the paper. Finally, he pointed at one area, "That—that's where the power comes from…and you wroted Pd so it's pally-dum like on the periodic table. Um and those thingies are conductors."

Howard grunted in agreement, "Yes, but it's pronounced palladium and those are the easiest parts to identify. Can you name anything else?"

Tony paused for a minute before shaking his head no.

"That's what I assumed."

He sometimes wished he…knew how to better act around his son, but he wasn't good at expressing those feelings—wasn't good at dealing with children. He could only show his care by furthering the success of Stark Industries for the day when Tony would take over and doing his best to ensure the boy was ready to deal with the harshness of the world.

"Now pay close attention, what you pointed out is a palladium core ring. Palladium 107 emits high-energy electrons which…" he spent the next ten minutes explaining various portions of the blueprints. Tony interrupted with a question every now and then, but for the most part quietly listened. How much of it he actually understood would remain to be seen.

Howard was in the middle of explaining how the reaction chamber worked when he heard a light sucking sound. Stopping mid-sentence, he peaked over at Tony's face. The boy was comfortably settled against his chest with his thumb firmly placed in his mouth, asleep.

He exhaled and ran a hand though his greying hair. All that time spent explaining wasted.

Pulling Anthony's thumb out of his mouth and adjusting his head so that it laid on his shoulder, Howard came to a stand. Briskly, he walked out of his lab and down the hall towards Tony's room. Halfway there he collided paths with a sleepy looking Jarvis. The man was wearing a plaid robe and looked shocked to see him. His expression morphed into a warm smile as he eyed Tony with great amusement and whispered, "Hello, Master Stark. I see the young sir paid you a midnight visit."

"Yes he did," Howard said, "What are you doing up so late?"

"I was just on my way to get a refreshment. My throat is incredibly parched."

"I know the feeling. I was planning to get something to drink myself before I was interrupted," he gestured his head towards the sleeping form.

"Ah, well, I would be happy to get you something too if you'd like."

"That would be wonderful. Coffee and make it strong. I plan on staying up for a little while longer to finish up something. Would you mind putting Tony to bed on your way to the kitchen? I feel like I am so close to having a break through with the arc reactor project. Vanko and I have almost finished the schematics. I just need to figure out how to—" He cut his ramblings off as he noticed Jarvis's disheartened look. Or maybe he was just reading the man's facial expression wrong. He was never good at that sort of thing. "Sorry for rambling, you know I get carried away."

"Oh, that's no problem, sir, it's just…," he appeared to struggle to find the right words, "If I may, I think it would mean a lot to the young master if it were you who did the honors of putting him to bed."

What honors? What was Jarvis going on about? Perhaps the man was in need of sleep more desperately than he himself was.

"He's unconscious, he wouldn't know if Richard Nixon was putting him to bed," he chuckled, "Here take him. I've got to get back to the lab."

With that, he deposited Tony into the other man's arms. The toddler stirred only slightly but didn't wake up. For a moment, it looked as though Jarvis was going to say something more, but ultimately nodded, "I'll bring your coffee down shortly, sir."

"Thanks, Jarvis."

Howard spun on his heel and marched back to the lab, mind already lost in a new string of equations.

He would remain unaware that Tony would wake up two minutes later and question Jarvis where his father was with great disappointment.

 **A/N: I find MCU Howard Stark to be a very interesting character and really wanted to explore him and Tony's strained relationship. The next chapter will be about the day Howard found out he was going to be a father. Please let me know what you would like to see in future chapters and I may just write it!**

 **PS: I am in no way a scientist/engineer, so I have no clue about any of the science I am writing about. I did read an article here about how the arc reactor could work in real life, but the information went way over my head. I did draw inspiration from it though to make my hand waving science sound better.**


	2. Expecting-1969

1969

"How are things coming, darling?"

The sing-song voice of his wife startled Howard, causing him to jump slightly. Abruptly shutting off the power tool and sliding up his welding glasses, he spun around to face the smiling woman, "God dammit, Maria, are you trying to give me a heart attack!"

"Well, I would have tried calling you, but you refuse to let them hook up a phone in here," she said playfully.

"You know very well why I don't want that," he put down the solder iron and leaned against the work table with crossed arms, "It would be ringing all the blasted time! I have office hours for business calls and in the off chance there is an emergency, my secretary—"

"Can come down and inform you," she finished for him.

"Right…" So, he may have given that same speech to her a few times. One would think she'd stop mentioning it after a while.

When Maria just continued to grin at him with a dreamy look in her eyes, he added, "What are you all smiles for?"

She gently placed her arms around his neck, "I just received some very good news."

"Oh?" His mind speedily calculated all the possible things it could be and none of them were worthy of the interruption. Most likely this had something to do with one of the charity foundations she ran. She was so passionate about those, but surely she wouldn't interrupt him in the middle of his important work to tell him the mayor was going to be in attendance for the next fundraiser banquet or something, "It must be some news if it couldn't wait until tonight."

"I am much too excited to be able to wait that long." Her fingers carded through his hair, sending a pleasant chill down his spine and successfully dissolving any previous feelings of irritation. "As it were, I've had my suspicions for a while now but didn't want to say anything in case I was wrong."

The engineer placed his hands on her hips, "Well, I am clearly drawing a blank. What's this earth shattering news?"

"You, Mr. Stark, are going to be a father."

And just like that, Howard felt his mind shutter to a screaming halt.

"Excuse me?"

"I've been getting morning sickness for about two weeks now and…well…things have become more obvious since."

"Jesus Christ…" he whispered, mouth feeling as though he'd licked sandpaper. His eyes drifted down to her stomach, "How?"

Of course, he knew how! In fact, he distinctly remembered when the "how" occurred. It'd been right after a party celebrating the finalization of the new and improved Stark Missiles, but he'd been sure they'd both taken preventative measures. After all, they'd both agreed a long time ago that neither wanted children.

"It must've been fate."

He tried his best not to openly scoff at that. "Fate" seemed to be one of Maria's favorite words. Sure, he'd used the word plenty of times in his youth to charm women, but when Maria said it, she meant it. She considered all things happened for a reason and that everyone had a destiny. Howard believed that if you wanted something done you did it your damn self, screw waiting on fate.

Her smile faltered, "Are you unhappy?"

Was he unhappy? No. Was he happy? Hell no. He didn't know what he felt.

Howard Stark, a father? No one would have predicted such a thing would ever happen—especially not himself! Then again, he never thought he'd marry, but that all changed when he'd met Maria. Still, a wife was completely different from having a child. A wife was a grown woman who, in Maria's case, was capable of intellectual conversation and wasn't clingy. She would do her thing, he would do his, and, when they felt like it, they'd do things together. It was a perfect balance!

Children were clingy, loud, whinny, gross things that he'd never quite learned how to properly deal with. This was going to be a disaster!

But…there would also be someone to inherit the company and share all his knowledge with.

Was that really enough to counteract all the negatives on the list, though?

Mustering all the charm he could bare at the moment, he forced a smile, "This is thrilling news! I am just too shocked for words." Pressing his lips to hers, he pulled her closer to him, fully aware of her stomach against his.

 **A/N: Thanks to those who have reviewed! I am so glad to hear people are enjoying my take on Howard! Please continue to leave ideas for future chapters!**


	3. Due Date-1970

**May 29, 1970**

Anthony Edward Stark looked around the room with an unfocused gaze and red face. Mercifully, he'd stop screaming a few minutes ago, which seemed to have efficiently worn him out. How could something so fragile have such a powerful set of lungs?

"He looks a lot like you," Maria said from the hospital bed, voice horse and tired.

Howard refused to look up from the bundle that had been placed in his arms because—God—she was right. Something inside him twisted as he recognized the thick black hair, brown eyes, and button nose as his own.

"So, what do you think of your son?"

Son. _His_ son.

"He's beautiful," he breathed, "There was no doubt, of course, since he's a mixture of excellent genes."

She laughed at that as the door opened and the nurse came in, "How are we doing, Mr. and Mrs. Stark?"

"Wonderful," Maria said, loving eyes still on Anthony.

"Good, I'm going to go ahead check your pulse and see that you are recuperating properly."

As the nurse and his wife began idly chatting about trivial things, Howard continued to admire Anthony, who'd fallen asleep. The intense feeling of protection that blossomed in his chest overwhelmed him. Anthony was so small and delicate, incapable of doing anything for himself and fully relying on others for the most basic of needs. He would ensure those needs were met!

His mind drifted back to his own subpar childhood. Sure, he'd been relatively happy, but he and his parents lived day by day, barely scrapping by. At a young age, he'd come to realize the world categorized people into different classes and, no matter how brilliant he was, being the son of a fruit seller and a shirtwaists seamstress would get him nowhere. So, Howard adapted and used his smarts and some unkosher, but necessary, means to ascend the social ladder.

Anthony would never have any of those problems. He'd have plenty of food, a warm place to sleep, the best schooling, and a firm place amongst the upper class!

His son would never want for anything and that was a promise.

 **A/N: Unfortunately, Tony did end up wanting and it was for his father's approval and attention.**

 **Anyway, this chapter is pretty short, but the next one is longer and involves Howard having to take care of a sick Tony (thanks to Nancy Drew 10 for suggesting whump!Tony). Thanks also to those who have left reviews! It really inspires me to keep writing!**


	4. Sick-1974

1974

How did this happen? No, seriously, because if the situation wasn't so down right horrible, it'd be hysterical! What were the chances of Maria, Jarvis, Ana, and the nanny all conveniently being out of town or otherwise indisposed of on this one damn day? If it weren't for his high distrust of people, he'd hire more help so things like this wouldn't happen.

One night—just for one night—he was left alone to look after Tony. Having important work that needed to get done, he'd brought him down to his lab and set him up in the corner with several sheets of equations to solve in order to keep him out of trouble. All seemed to be going fine until he'd felt a tug on his shirt.

Without raising his head from his work, Howard had swiftly reprimanded the boy for interrupting him. Tony had wordlessly returned to his spot. He'd thought that would take care of the problem, but five minutes later a muffled sniffle broke the room's silence.

Howard had rolled his eyes, "What's the matter now?"

Tony had returned to his side in seconds, clutching at his stomach and face ghostly pale, "It feels like I'm gonna—"

The rest of his words had been cut off by the vomit that spilled from his mouth, down the front of his white cardigan, and onto the ground, effectively splattering Howard's shoes. He had jumped up so fast, sending the chair he'd previously been sitting in clattering to the floor.

Now he was standing in front of a trembling Tony with a vile puddle separating them.

Once again, what were the chances of these events simultaneously occurring in one blasted night? He would have to calculate them later because his son's eyes began to water and within seconds he dissolved into a sobbing mess.

Howard blinked stupidly at the wailing child. What was he supposed to do? He'd never taken care of Tony when he was sick before. That was always Maria or Jarvis. Also, how serious was this? Just a minor illness or did he need to contact a doctor? Dammit, the sobbing had to stop! It was penetrating his every thought, he couldn't think like this!

"Stop it!" he shouted, grabbing Tony's shoulders and maneuvering him roughly around the mess on the floor. He gripped the boy a bit tighter, "Listen to me, you need to stop crying!"

"I—it hurts," Tony said, doubling over.

"You are a Stark, and Stark men are made of iron! They don't cry!"

Tony nodded and made a clear effort to try to stop his tears but had little success, "My tummy's doing the weird thing again!"

Shit!

Roughly scooping Tony up under the arms, Howard sprinted to the nearest trashcan and deposited him in front of it. Not a moment too soon either as he immediately began heaving into the small, metal can. Howard winced at the sounds but kept his distance, seriously hoping that he hadn't accidently thrown anything important away.

Once the atrocious noise came to an end, Tony rested his head against the can's lip.

"I w—want mom," he shuddered.

Howard grunted at that; he wanted Maria too. She'd be able to take Tony out of here, leaving Howard to deal with things that he was far more comfortable with, namely weapons and other various machinery.

"Too bad, she's not here." He grabbed a dirty rag off of a work bench and began to clean his shoes off, "Do you think you can make it to the bathroom without any more incidents?"

That's where you took sick kids, right?

At Tony's hesitant nod, Howard straightened back up, disposing of the soiled cloth, "Alright, then, grab the garbage can and let's go before you contaminate anything else in here with your germs."

It was a half-hearted attempt at a joke that came out sounding more irritated than intended and his son responded by hunching further in on himself.

He rolled his eyes. Kid was way too sensitive.

The nearest bathroom was not far. Located just outside of his lab, it was not as grand as the mansion's other restrooms and only contained a sink and toilet, but it was really only Howard who used it. The vanity, light switches, and various parts of the green wallpaper were stained from oily hands that no amount of cleaner would take out, much to Jarvis's chagrin. Howard really tried to remember to clean off his hands before coming to the bathroom, but sometimes his was so caught up in his work it slipped his mind. So long as guests didn't lay eyes on it, he was could live with the imperfections of it.

Howard looked down and noticed large eyes staring at him expectantly. He felt a flash of anger. What did Tony want from him? What was he supposed to do? Why had he even brought him into the bathroom? God, he hated feeling like an idiot and Tony had a particular way of making him feel like one!

"Well, are you going to change, or do you like smelling like that?" He snapped.

Tony didn't reply and carefully began to work his way out of his cardigan. The older man inhaled deeply. He needed to stop panicking. This was a simple problem and the solutions were obvious. Tony was no different than himself when he was sick. He had just lost a lot of fluids, ergo it was imperative he get those fluids back in him. Nodding to himself, Howard grabbed a glass from the countertop and began filling it with water.

Now standing in an untainted blue polo with the soiled cardigan left on the floor, Tony pointed towards the medicine cabinet, "Do you have a thermom-mater? Mom usually takes my temperature when I get sick." His voice was watery, but at least he wasn't crying anymore.

"That's thermometer," he corrected, passing Tony the cup, "Drink this. You need to stay hydrated."

Howard turned back to the cabinet and began digging inside. It was fully stocked with medicine but he really wasn't sure if it had a thermometer. After pushing several bottles and containers aside, his finger brushed against a slim, cool glass. Smirking to himself, he pulled out the little stick.

"Here, you—" he abruptly cut himself off at the sight of Tony chugging the water, "What are you thinking? You just finished throwing up! You need to take sips, Tony, sips or it's all going to come right back up!"

He snatched the glass out of his son's hands, but half the contents were gone. Tony would most certainly be throwing that up again soon. Oh well, he would just have to learn that lesson the hard way.

"Here." He thrust the thermometer towards the small boy and watched as Tony placed it under his tongue.

They waited in silence.

Leaning against the vanity, he let himself relax. He was rather pleased with himself. Sure, he'd started off bumbling with this whole sick child thing, but once he finally pulled his head out of his ass and examined the situation logically, it became a piece of cake. Just like when a project presented a problem, there were certain steps to be taken to fix it. Same with sick children. Diagnose the area that is having issues and fix accordingly.

He was abruptly pulled from his thoughts and stiffened as Tony leaned against his leg, clearly seeking comfort.

"Did you know a thermometer has mercury in it?" Tony mumbled around the glass stick in his mouth, his voice thick with sleep, "When it gets hot, the mercury gets bigger cause—"

"Son, do you honestly think I am one of the United States' largest weapons manufacturers and don't know how a thermometer works?" He smirked.

Tony dropped his gaze to his feet.

After another minute passed, Howard said, "It's been long enough. Read me what it says."

Remaining against his leg, Tony read the numbers on the thermometer, "It's 101. I rounded up cause it's a fraction."

So, he was running a fever. No surprise, the reddish tint to his face gave that away. Most likely this was a stomach flu as he initially suspected. There would be no need to call a doctor then unless his symptoms became worse or his fever continued to rise. Now he just needed to proceed with the steps to fix this. Get Tony more water, put him to bed, go back to work, check in to make sure fever doesn't rise, and wait for Jarvis to return home to take over. Easy. Simple. How could he have possibly panicked over this earlier?

"Dad," Tony said, voice barely above a whisper now, "I'm tired."

"Then you better get to bed," taking the thermometer, Howard placed it on the sink to be cleaned later.

"Hold me?"

Howard froze. The words were said so quietly he'd barely heard them. Tony didn't meet his gaze, he just leaned further against his pant leg looking incredibly small and…vulnerable. His nails dug into his skin as his fists tightened.

"Tony, I want you to clarify something for me." Grabbing his shoulders, Howard extracted him from his leg. The boy seemed to sag at the lack of physical support.

"Are you a baby?"

Brown eyes peaked up from under long lashes, "No?"

"Exactly, so you don't need to be held like one."

Those eyes started to water, "But daddy—"

"Do you think Captain America asked to be held when he was tired?"

"No," he shook his head, voice cracking "c-cause he's strong an' brave."

"Right, and I need you to be those things too because Stark men—"

"Are m-made of iron," Tony finished for him, wiping viciously at his eyes.

The inventor nodded as he picked up the trashcan. After giving the child a few moments to compose himself, they quietly made their way to Tony's room. Howard dropped the can next to his son's bed as his son crawled into bed, all but collapsing against the pillows.

"Are you gonna stay?"

"No. I've got work to do."

The boy's lips began to tremble.

Oh God not again. This was ridiculous. As sensitive as Tony was, he was never usually this weepy!

"What did I say about crying?"

"S-Stark men don' c—cry," Tony blubbered between sobs.

"Exactly! You don't need me in here watching you and you certainly don't need to cry over a simple stomach flu."

"But I—" Tony stopped himself short as he lurched over the side of the bed and emptied his stomach once more into the trash.

"I told you that would happen when you drank the water too fast," Howard said, crossing his arms. Tony would definitely remember this lesson. "I'm sure your crying over everything hasn't helped any either."

His young son sat back up, shivering and pulling the blankets tighter around himself.

Howard sighed, a twinge of sympathy penetrating his irritation. Grabbing the folded throw blanket at the end of the bed, he efficiently spread it over Tony. His boy looked at him through half-lidded, wet eyes. Damn he looked like a mess.

"Keep taking small sips of water and get some sleep."

Tony's eyes were already slipping shut as he walked out of the room.

 **AN: Sorry it took so long to post this. I wasn't happy with the chapter for the longest time and then student teaching got in the way of being able to edit it. Anyway, let me know if there is something you'd like to see in a future chapter and I may just write it! Thanks for your continued support! I am shocked by the number of people who seem to be enjoying this fic.**


	5. First Talk Show-1970

**1970**

Howard glanced down at his watch as the makeup artist finished powdering his face. He would be on soon.

"Mr. Stark," a pretty, smiling woman with a pristine bob appeared in front of him, "may I just say you have the cutest baby boy."

His eyes shifted to behind the woman where Maria stood holding their squirming son. The two were surrounded by tech crew and other various personnel, all cooing over the boy. The man could not help but smirk. This was one of the reasons he'd brought Tony along to this particular interview. People tended to fawn over babies, especially when they were from well-known icons.

It'd be his son's first appearance on a talk show thus drawing in more viewers and giving himself and Stark Industries some positive public image. Lord knew they needed it with the drastic divide that had been going on over the war.

"Thank you, miss. That's a high compliment coming from someone with clearly excellent taste in appearance."

"You're such a charmer," she giggled before pointing towards the side of the stage, "Now, you're going to need to wait over there. Johnny will be calling you out in just a minute."

Standing up, Howard moved over to the indicated area, just out of sight from the audience.

Looking at his wife he called to her, "Maria, dear, I'm going to need Tony back."

"If you'll excuse me," she said to the employees as they parted to let her through. She came to Howard's side and gave Tony a peck on the forehead before gently handing him over.

Howard awkwardly held the infant who immediately gripped his tie with chubby hands and began babbling nonsense.

"Don't forget, if he starts crying—"

"I will come get him from you. No need to worry," Maria winked.

Damn she was lovely to look at.

"Where would I be without you?"

"Probably still having one-night flings with floozies."

"Almost certainly."

"Mr. Stark," Jarvis said, approaching him with a pacifier in hand, "You might find this useful."

"Excellent!" He took hold of the object and slid it into Tony's mouth who eagerly accepted it. "I presume you've dipped it?"

"In an exquisite Sassicaia."

Howard chuckled. Tony was used to large masses and loud noises so he shouldn't, theoretically, have a crying fit while on camera. Still, it was wise to take necessary precautions which were having Maria on standby and a pacifier with a little extra something to help keep Tony calm.

"I'll be waiting to take the young sir home after the show."

"Thank you, Jarvis. The missus and I plan on staying out a bit late tonight."

"Mr. Stark, it's time," the woman from earlier announced.

Maria leaned forward, kissed Howard on the cheek, and gave a whisper of good luck before caressing Tony's soft black hair.

"Break a leg, sir," Jarvis smiled.

"Don't I always?"

With that, Howard turned his attention to the brightly lit stage where the grey-haired man sat behind a desk and began speaking, "I don't think I exaggerate when I say our first guest is one of the most brilliant minds of our time. He is the head and founder of Stark Industries and has just published an autobiography, _The Fruit Seller's Son_. He also became a first-time father earlier this year and has brought his son along with him tonight. We are proud to welcome Mr. Howard and Anthony Stark, onto the show!"

The crowd erupted into applause as Howard walked out into the open. The cameras followed him as he strutted to the plush orange seat, giving the crowd a dazzling smile. Balancing Tony on his hip he reached out and shook Johnny Carson's hand. The interviewer then took Tony's tiny hand and shook it as well.

The audience quieted as the two took their seats. Howard held Tony against his chest as the smaller head swiveled from side to side staring wide eyed at the boom mics and camera equipment.

"Thank you for coming on the show," Carson began, folding his arms on the table in front of him.

"It's a pleasure to be here."

"And you've brought Anthony along."

"Yes," he smiled, bouncing the baby in his lap a little.

"How old is he now? He was born late May I believe."

He nodded, "Tony turns six months old on the 29th of this month."

"Wow, half a year old already. How is it being a father?"

How was it? How could you describe something that involved dealing with disgusting spit up, diaper changes, being woken up by shrill crying in the middle of the night, and having the constant panic that the child would somehow hurt himself. He was lucky those nastier aspects of having a baby were mostly taken care of by Jarvis, Ana, or the nanny. He couldn't imagine having to deal with it 24/7!

Being a father was uncomfortable and scary.

But he couldn't say that. So, he settled for, "It's a challenge, but very rewarding."

"What are some of the things you find rewarding about it?"

Son of a bitch.

"Well…" he had to think for a moment, "One instance actually was last week."

"Really?"

"He said dada for the first time," he paused before continuing, "And you wouldn't think something so miniscule would be a big deal, but it was. It's something I never thought someone would say with me in mind."

He was surprised how quickly the answer had come to him and how much he'd actually meant it. He knew logically dada was just easier to say then mama and he shouldn't put anything into it, but…in the moment his heart had sped up and his chest had felt tight.

"Well, I have to be honest with you, I was shocked when you announced you were having a kid. I think most people assumed you weren't going to have children."

"And I was one of those people." The audience laughed and he continued, "But when you start getting older you find yourself thinking more about your legacy and what you'll leave behind."

Carson picked up the hardcovered book on his desk, "And your autobiography, _The_ _Fruit Seller's Son_ , does a good job at sharing with others your legacy, I believe. I've read most of it and find it very compelling. Can you tell us a bit about it?"

"It covers my childhood and adult life through until last year. It goes into detail about how I built my company up from nothing and my friendship with Steve Rogers."

"I have to say, the part with Captain America, God rest his soul, was one of the most interesting parts. The two of you got into and out of some hairy situations together."

"Steve was one of the best men I've ever known, but he had a way of getting us both into trouble. We gah—" Howard was cut off as Tony's small hand shot straight up, clipping his chin.

The audience roared with laughter.

The pacifier dropped out of his son's mouth and landed on the floor. A string happy gibberish fell out of Tony's mouth as he continued to reach for the boom mic above them.

Carson shook with humor, "It appears Tony's as interested in technology as you are."

"Apparently," he winced as the baby continued to wiggle in his hold.

"What do you think, Tony? Want to follow in your old man's footsteps?"

Upon hearing his name, Tony's head snapped in the direction of the older man. He started making random sounds once more which seemed to amuse everyone in the room.

"Boy he sure has a lot to say."

"Hopefully this isn't a sign of how much he is going to talk when he gets older," Howard joked, adjusting the infant as he picked up the pacifier.

"It's time for a commercial break. Anything you'd like to add before we cut, Tony?"

Tony let out a loud squeal and started clumsily clapping.

The kid was a natural showman and the crowd ate it up.

"We'll be right back," Carson said between laughs.

As the cameras stopped rolling Howard motioned for Maria to come over. The crowd welcomed her with an applause. She gave Carson a hug before reaching down and scooping up her child. The three talked for a few minutes before she waved them goodbye and exited the stage.

Howard relaxed against the orange fabric, feeling much more at ease now that Tony was gone.

 **AN: I imagine years later Tony watches this interview and thinks that his father was bull-shitting about finding him saying "dada" for the first time a rewarding experience.**

 **Thanks for all the reviews! I'm so pleased to see so much positive feedback! I'm thinking the next chapter will be about a 4 year old Tony trying to imitate his dad, but we'll see.**


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